Growing Pains
by StackofStories
Summary: If Nico had it his way, he would be a kid forever. Kids Next Door AU. Percico.


**My contribution to the PJO/HoO minibang over on tumblr. I mostly thanked everyone on there.**

 **Here, I want to thank ChaosEmperorNex for his general help in telling me what was wrong and such. I fear there are still numerous amount of mistakes, but hopefully, it isn't too unbearable.**

* * *

 **Growing Pains**

* * *

"Tell me a bedtime story."

Nico snorted.

He chose a spot in the furthest corner in the cell where he faced the padded walls graffitied with crude stick pictures of teddy bears, racecars, and stick-figure families. Just because he was stuck in the Playpen- the cruelest teen-run prison every KND operative feared-, it didn't mean he had to listen to the teenagers.

Nico traced a racecar. He guessed there was a plus to being stuck here, his reputation among the KND would soar. It was said only the teen samurai's most notorious enemies were to the Playpen.

"Don't be like that. I'm giving you the opportunity to run your motor mouth."

Nico's lips curled into a sneer. The teen talked more than the kindergarteners. His fingers followed the lines and drawings. There was no conversing with the enemy. Teenagers were like snakes. They'd been tricking kids for generations with their sticky words of deceit.

"I'll give you candy. I know little shits like you go gaga over _Reese's Pieces_ or _Sour Punch_. I could get you some. All you have to do is tell me a story."

How were there pictures in here? No crayons, color pencils, no fun was allowed in the Playpen.

He felt a sharp spike of jealousy. He wanted to make his mark on the walls: Numbuh P-51, one scratch and skull.

The teenager laughed. It was ominous in a way a kid's voice wasn't, edged with that weighty deepness. It was an unmistakable sign of impending adulthood.

Disgusting.

"Why would I think to bribe you? You aren't like the other brats."

Nico heard small pops as the teenager cracked his knuckles-or was that his back?- and a pleased sigh. The chair scrapped against the floor. The teenager was leaving.

Nico's finger paused on the bow of the teddy bear. He waited for one last jeer, one last goad to try and get a reaction.

"… goodnight Nico, we'll try for story time tomorrow," the teenager said. Soft. Lingering.

Nico shivered.

The bright lights above him buzzed like a bug zapper before they flickered off.

Stupid teenager.

* * *

The difference between teenagers and kids was an obvious duh.

Teenagers were so eager to join the grey, adult world. Teenagers forgot about fun. They forgot the simple pleasures in life, like cavities and skinned knees, the knowledge of dangerous monsters that lurked in every adult, the joy of the ice cream truck's melody, the camaraderie of hanging out without any icky cooties.

Teenagers were stupid! They pretended to have everything figured out when they had no idea. Teenagers just left behind everything in a false bid for greatness. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Kids were, no, _are_ different: better, smarter, everything.

Nico vowed to be a kid for as long as possible, to uphold the values of the Kids Next Door. He would prevent all acts of adult tyranny and teenager treachery. He sought to make the world a better place for children.

That was why he ignored Numbuh 13's barked orders to stay with his cell and wait for backup. Why Nico held T.I.Z.O.N.A., black as night, tight in his hands, and rushed straight into the fray. Why he knocked down and jabbed every teenager that came within swinging distance.

Why he engaged this teenager alone.

The teen was dressed like a skater boy clichè. His jeans were ripped like someone had taken a pair of scissors with them and gone crazy. He wore an AHS blue hoodie and their crest, CAPTAIN, scrawled in fancy-pansy cursive. An oddly decorous Greek helmet with chipped blue-green painted wings, sat princely on his wild black curls, a stark difference to the usual samurai helmets the teenagers wore. Ah, the teen was different than the usual grunt.

The teen's eyes crinkled in amusement when they landed on Nico. The teen took out his own weapon from the sloping scabbard around his waist. The teen pressed a button on its golden hilt.

His eyes trained on the glowing, baby-blue sword. It was about three feet in length and every time the teen moved it, it made the suspicious _nyoom nyoom_ sound. If that was what he thought it was: _no fair._

"Is that a lightsaber?" Nico asked.

"Yup," the teen popped his p's. "It was a birthday gift."

The teenager leaped forward. He swung his lightsaber. Nico was immediately on defense. The teenager was good. He expected that. Teenagers were a dangerous bunch. KND operatives were told (loudly and over and over again) not to engage teenagers, unless they were specialists in combat fighting or with a partner. Obviously, Nico was neither, but— he spun around. He narrowly evaded a hit, and thrust his own sword.

That was such an unfair rule!

He could take on _one_ measly teenager by himself, high-level or not. He didn't need any help just because the teen was a few years older. Teenagers were just like any other enemy. Teenagers and kids were on the same level!

"I hate you," Nico spat.

Nico grunted as he backtracked away from the sword's edge. He took a running start toward the teen only to be met in the middle. He fended the teen off.

"Your insults need work, kid."

No matter where Nico swung his sword, the teen was one step ahead of him with that stupid, _stupid_ crooked smile. Nico ran right back in. All finesse was thrown out the window. He just wanted to stab and bruise. The teen was nimble, he evaded each and every one of his attacks. Somehow, he twisted and turned, fluid as water.

"Stop!" Nico demanded. His attacks became more vicious. Their swords clanged together. "Stop playing with me! Fight me, I'm not a _kid!"_

The teen's smile dropped as if genuinely surprised. "Aren't you? You're just some whiny little brat trying to stop the inevitable."

Nico faltered. His hands shook. "Nuh-uh!"

There was something that bubbled and frothed within him. Something that made everything sharper yet blurry at the same time, his heart thudded against his chest as if trying to come out and his eyes burned. Stupid teenager was wrong as usual— it wasn't _him_ that was trying to avoid what couldn't be avoided— he saw an opening and he went for it, his aim sure— it was the rest of the world that was in a hurry for something that wasn't so great, leaving him _alone_ —

"P-51!"

Nico turned for a split-second. Numbuh 79 ran toward him, her golden eyes determined, her cinnamon curls bounced around her face. Numbuh 8 lumbered behind her.

In that split second, the teen grabbed him from behind. The teen gave him a _gentle_ nudge to drop his weapon. The teen pulled Nico close. His lightsaber hummed as it was pushed under Nico's chin.

"Stay right where you are!" the teen shouted. "One wrong move and he gets it."

Nico scowled, he hated the look on Numbuh 79's face. "Don't threaten them!" he snapped. He tried to send Numbuh 79 a calm look. "Just do whatever with me."

"Protective." was that a smile Nico heard?

"Whatever," he scoffed. "You've won. Take me hostage, or let go."

The teen hummed loudly in that obnoxious way, as if he didn't _already_ have a decision in mind. "I've got a party to go to, I don't have time to babysit munchkins."

Nico bristled. He shifted against the teen, so what if he cut, burned, whatever against this fake lightsaber. He was _done_ with this teenager and his insults.

Nico hated the goosebumps the rose along his arms and neck and the chill that slithered up his spine and in his insides- all of this because the teen leaned in like some weirdo. His nose brushed his ear. "Smile, sunshine."

The teen let him go. Nico almost crashed to the pavement. The teen was dashing away in his peripheral vision. His blue lightsaber was bright against the dim light. Numbuh 79 wrapped an arm around his waist while Numbuh 8 looked about ready to chase after the teen.

Nico shook Numbuh 79 off. The dying sun behind told him they were running low on time.

"Leave him. Reyna's decommissioning," he said tersely. Numbuh 79 mirrored his frown as she curled an absent finger around a curl. He picked up his sword from the pavement. His frown dug deeper at the skid marks he saw as he sheathed T.I.Z.O.N.A. It would need another paint job soon.

Nico started to walk toward the parking lot. He had zero doubts Numbuh 13 would scold him as soon as he set eyes on him. He'd probably also harp about the importance of teamwork and listening to orders. Nico just wasn't in the mood for it today.

The decommission ceremonies were held the night before the new school year. He would officially be a seventh grader tomorrow. The penultimate checkpoint to his own decommissioning ceremony, _whoopee_.

* * *

"Do you want to play Go Fish?"

Why should he bother to talk? Scratch that, why did the teen bother to talk to him? None of his other guards talked to him.

"Checkers? I think Travis has a board."

The only board games he played were with Numbuh 79 and Bianca. They were on a month-long hiatus from their Monopoly game. Nico was definitely getting JFK's Airport and Disney World whenever they resumed.

"You're a chess dork. Annabeth is the same way; she says it's a way to be more strategic. It sounds like bullshit."

Nico never looked at the teen. Still. He found that, almost against his will, his brain built the image from awhile back. His bluish-green eyes. His skin brown skin from day's outside in the sun. His messy black hair- the type Nana Demeter whipped out a comb for.

"Hands-up-seven-up? It would be pretty boring since we would be the only two playing. Although, I suppose I could get others…"

How long would they hold him for? A week or two at most? It was Spring Break, and after that, the teenagers were usually on the down low, much more interested in prom and graduation.

"You're right, too boring. I Spy? There's only your cell and the hallway."

Would he be able to bathe? It wasn't particularly high up on his needs. Nico had no problem with staying in the same clothes for weeks.

The teens kept up with food: cheetos, orange soda, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with a pudding cup for lunch. Breakfast was lunch. For dinner, he got Sprite and a McDonald's happy meal in the original red box (no toy privileges, the savages).

"It's like our roles are reversed. You're the sulky teenager and I'm the kid that just wants to have fun."

Nico grunted.

"A response! You don't like the idea, do you? Being compared to a teenager? What are you in seventh grade, thirteen? That's a teenager. You're one of us!"

He crossed his arms over his chest. How was Sector VII running without him? It probably wasn't in chaos. Numbah 8 was a pretty reliable second-in-command.

"How does it feel to be one of us? You have freedom to see PG-13 movies."

Numbuh 13 should be okay, he had such an unnecessary tendency to worry about him. As the Supreme Leader of the KND, he couldn't afford favoritism for any one operative.

"Maybe stay up a little later."

Nico had a mountain of homework to do. Could he get his homework? Nico knew homework was the symbol of adult evilness, sure, but he couldn't just fail pre-algebra because he got captured.

"See that girls don't have cooties —"

He hoped someone remembered to feed Cerberus. Bianca and Numbuh 79 never remembered.

"—really moving into adulthood."

Nico sat up, his fingers dug in his sleeping bag. The teen went too far! That was like the worst insult imaginable. His dark eyes roved over the grinning teen. Clearly, he was overjoyed by Nico's response. Nico flopped back down, stiff in how he struggled to stay calm.

"Does growing up really bother you so much? Maybe the dweebs up in the Moonbase can perfect carbon-freezing technology just for you."

Nico closed his eyes. He drew a good picture in the Playroom — the recreational room he went to for an hour each day — today. He'd finally drawn an acceptable Chronos design. Now, if he could just send it to the Mythomagic Inc., the card-creation competition would end soon.

"Are you playing the quiet game? You've already won." The teen clapped exaggeratedly.

He sorta thought about Father and Persephone. They never worried when he was gone for long periods of time, but Bianca does… did. She used to stay up until he came back home, or she dragged him from his newest spider-hole to give him an earful.

"Tell me a bedtime story, please."

Nico buried his head in his pillow.

"Goodnight Nico."

The lights turned off. His cells swallowed in darkness. Nico heard the teen walk away. Hopefully, the teen was rejected enough where he wouldn't bother talking tomorrow. Nico curled in his sleeping bag. He was being too optimistic. If there was one thing he knew was that the teen was persistent, stupidly so.

Why did the teen try so hard to speak to him? Maybe he was an interrogation specialist –not a very good one– and was using him to find out precious secrets. If that was so, Nico welcomed the teen's attempts. He wasn't a crybaby like Numbuh 911, or a two-faced liar like Numbuh 1313. Nico was trained by the best and would never, ever crack.

Stupid teenager.

* * *

Nico's childhood was written and scrawled with epic fights, illicit candy trips, Bianca, ice cream, Mythomagic cards and everything a kid could want.

Mama fitted into his bed. Her thin fingers, long and elegant, plucked his pirate hat off before they carded through his hair. Nico tucked into her side. Bianca on her other-side. Mama smelled like ink and new paper. She was the only good adult out of the bazillions of evil-tacular ones.

"What should we read tonight?" Mama asked in her mother tongue, Italian.

"Harry Potter!" Bianca said.

"Peter Pan!" Nico said. He already had the book in his hands.

"We _always_ read Peter Pan," Bianca shot back.

"Nuh-uh, not _all_ the time, and it's _my_ week to pick a story, we read your stupid Br-Br-Bridge to Terracotta last week!" Bianca was being a drama queen like always.

"Bridge to Terabithia, _stupid_!"

"Bianca!" Mama admonished. Bianca flinched back.

Haha! Nico stuck his tongue out only to be reprimanded in turn.

"Now, your brother is right. It is his week to pick a story—"

"Told you!" he crowed happily.

Bianca scrunched her nose at him as she crossed her arms. She blew out. Her dark eyes shaded into a solid black.

"- But Nico, your sister is _also_ right. We do read Peter Pan every other week. Maybe another story next time, hmm?"

Nico harrumphed. He curled back into Mama's side. Whatever. Peter Pan was the bestest story, it was way, way better than Harry Potter anyway.

"All children, except for one, grow up…"

There was no next time. Mama died. Bianca decommissioned.

Nico learned: All adults, except for none, lie.

* * *

It wasn't that he missed the teen because he most certainly cross-his-heart-pinkie-promise did _not_ , it was just… he was _bored_ after three days of complete silence.

The Playpen was cruel in how it isolated the prisoner. For twenty-three hours, which felt like a gazillion, he was stuck in his cell. It was padded like a loony bin. A lone television that only showed PBS sat in the corner, a porta-potty like thing in the opposite corner, and his orange sleeping bag laid right in the middle of the cell.

The teen was his only source of entertainment even if he was chatty. Nico sat up in his sleeping bag. He picked at a stray piece of black string on his jeans. Bianca and Persephone's unison reprimand echoed in his head: _Don't_ _do that, I_ just _bought you those!_

Where was that teen?

Nico was a dangerous operative, he was nicknamed the Ghost King because he could get in and out of places with zero problems. He could probably escape right now, and be home catching up on Pewdiepie's latest video, or he could be doing what he was _supposed_ to be doing. Someone should be watching him!

Where was that teen!

Nico picked more insistently at the string. He needed scissors or something.

He understood if the teen was doing a mission. They all did missions. Kid, teenager, adult, no one was exempt. How long did missions take among the teens? Nico heard enough complaints from the other teen guards to know that two days of missionary was enough. In their own words: "Tormenting these little turds is like fun and everything, but like I have a life outside of this. I can't be out like every night. My mom says if I fail one more test in Calc she'll like take away my car and Brad for months. _Months_!"

He grumbled. The more he picked at the string, the longer the string became. Forget it!

Nico fell back on his sleeping bag, his eyes closed. His fingers twitched with the itch to do _something_. Everything was too quiet, too loud, too everything because he was dying of boredom. He was super-duper Bored, and like every child in the world he didn't take well to boredom, or being ignored.

Surely, that's what the stupid teen was doing (if he wasn't on a mission). The teen was trying to psych him out. Well, Nico smiled pencil-thin, he was the reigning champ of the quiet game, five years in a row against the whole of the KND.

"I didn't realize your bedtime was so early."

Nico opened his eyes. He sat up just a bit too fast. His eyebrows climbed and his mouth dropped open, only a bit.

The teen laughed– more like giggle-snorted. His arms wrapped around his stomach as he struggled to get a word in. "Y-Your f-pft–face, I didn–ha–realize–you'd miss me th-that much."

Nico crossed his arms. He glared at the teen. Against his will, he took notice of the teen. The teen's black hair still in desperate need of a comb, the slight purple coloring under his right-eye–ouch– his posture oddly rigid like he was trying to appear calm? Was he always like this?

Nico caught the line of the black around the teen's neck — that was enough looking. He lowered his eyes to the floor.

"Don't be like that," the teen said.

Nico huffed.

The teen huffed right back, he probably rolled his eyes too. "You're thinking about where I went, and if you aren't, too bad! I'm going to tell you. I had a mission in Jersey, and Annabeth decided to break up with me."

He bit the inside of his cheek. He tried to control the roll of his stomach. He didn't know the teen had a girlfriend.

"We're still friends, but like, it hurts, dude. She's been with me through everything." Nico caught the movement of the teen's fingers as they scratched through his hair, his lips pressed tight together for a long moment. "It's whatever though." The teen shrugged. It was obviously forced. "So, are you gonna tell me a bedtime story to cheer me up?"

Nico raised an eyebrow.

"Right-right, still playin' the quiet game. You'll crack."

Nico shook his head. His hair fell over his eyes. He combed it back. He needed to get it cut soon or borrow one of Numbuh 79's scrunchies whenever he saw her.

"You say that now, but I'll get you. Promise."

Nico rolled his eyes.

The teen laughed, one of those boisterous belly-laughs, as if Nico had told the funniest joke.

"You weren't always Mr. Grumpy Pants," the teen said. "Anyways, _I'll_ tell you a bedtime story, just to show you how it's done."

His hands cupped under his chin, his eyebrows raised as if to say, 'All right.' He leaned forward, 'I'm all ears.' He couldn't _wait_ for this.

The teen reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue-cased Iphone. Nico spied a faded sticker of Nemo on the back. The teen thumbed through his phone until he found whatever he was looking for. He cleared his throat.

"So, my Mom's an author, and she used to tell me this bedtime story; it was more like a personal epic when I was younger, when I was really into the whole Greek Mythology thing…"

Nico's heart beat in his ears like the sound of heavy drums.

"Look, I didn't want to be a half-blood…"

Nico inched back down his sleeping bag. He glued his eyes to the harsh, long lights above. He almost wished they were seashells and surfboards.

He didn't want to listen to this story.

Stupid teenager.

* * *

Nico was rooted there. He looked up at the metal Hydra that seemed to touch the sky. It was like the maybe baby of Optimus Prime and Godzilla. The Hydra whirred like Mama's old laptop. Its three large, metal heads whipped around the playground, their teeth big as street cones crushed everything in its pathway.

Nico's legs shook like earthquake tremors and his bottom lip quivered. High-pitched screams surrounded him, and he couldn't…

"Don't eat me!" wailed a kindergartner from the sandbox, he was curled into a ball. He covered his head just like Nico was taught to do last year in case of a tornado.

Nico gripped the ends of his shirt. He bit his lip. Where was his sister when he needed her? He wasn't the brave one. Bianca and Mama always took care of his fears and worries, but where were they?

A whimper escaped Nico. The Hydra poised to strike.

Nico dashed toward the kindergartner, he used words that would earn him a bar of soap. He pushed the crybaby out of the way just in time. The middle hydra's head would've chomped him into two, but a boy dropped in front of him. A boy with a golden sword!

The boy parried the Hydra's heads like a pirate king straight of the fairy tales.

Nico's nervousness — his fear ebbed away in favor of watching the boy because he was so _wow_. He was so cool in how he added a couple of "hi-yah's! and where did he learn to kick like that? How did he move with such a large grin, like he was _having_ fun, not even the least bit scared! Not like Nico.

A lone arrow shot through the middle head's eyes, the boy lost his grin. Nico frowned.

"Numbuh 17, I had him!" the boy cried.

Bianca was here.

"Didn't anybody ever teach you to not play with your food," Bianca said simply.

Nico watched his sister combo with this new boy to take the mechanical Hydra down with a victorious thud in seconds. Nico couldn't control himself any longer, he had to talk to the boy.

"Good job helping us," the boy said as soon as his eyes landed on Nico.

Nico blinked, his cheeks flushed pink at the praise. "I didn't do anything."

"Uh, yeah-huh! You saved that kid from being Hydra kibble."

He'd never wanted to say, 'Nuh-uh,' so badly his life. The boy was totally wrong, but whatever. Nico ached to just gush about this boy and what he did, how he was his new hero, like way cooler Hercules and Achilles and even Peter Pan. Bianca was the behind the boy, she shook her head at Nico.

Oh. Well then.

Mama said there should be an effort made to reward those that did really good, and this boy did more than really good. He did _spectacular, amazing, wow_.

Nico had just the thing to show his gratitude. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the necklace he made today in art class. He was really proud of it. It was made out of black gimp strung with his favorite colors of black, purple, and blue beads. He held it out to the boy. "Thank you, Numbuh…"

"I can't take ta…"

"My little brother will take offense. Take the necklace, _double-o seven,"_ Bianca wore that grin Nico dubbed as the Sister Smile.

Nico couldn't see how this boy could get any more awesomer. It would totally make sense that the coolest KND operative Nico ever saw would be Numbuh 007. To add the perfect icing to the cake, 007 took his necklace and slipped it on with a smile, sheepish, but a smile was a smile.

"Thank you, 007," Nico said, he blushed again.

007 glanced away, an awkward smile was on his lips as his fingers reached up to brush hair out of his face. "Mission complete. Um, just call me Percy. All right?"

"Ok… Percy."

* * *

It was like… he just meant… it was another way he staved off boredom. Nico rolled his eyes. Why did he feel the need to justify what he was feeling to himself?

He already established he was bored all day in cell. Nobody could blame him if he perked when the teen visited him at the end of the day. Besides, it wasn't like he actually enjoyed the stupid, chatty, over-the-top, arrogant, no good, liar-liar-pants-on-fire, teen.

No, it was just a way he alleviated his boredom.

Nico smiled when the teen plopped in front of him. Dark rings spiraled around his eyes like a raccoon's mask. Nico almost asked what was wrong.

"Being responsible sucks ass! I drove for five hours straight just to pick up my Mom, and then I had to teach a bunch of newbies how to handle their swords from their dick, Grover needed a ride, and then I was called in for the shittiest shift, and tomorrow is Friday, and it's the Flag Football game, that still needs setting up — why is it my responsibility I don't fucking know— and I still have two essays on Dante's fucking Inferno, plus another essay in history, that math assignment for extra credit, and I need an idea for my AP Bio project, _and now_ I have to babysit you for at least three hours, and I'm running on like two hours of sleep from yesterday. _Oh._ " The teen grinned predatorily at him, all colored teeth and pink gums.

Nico stiffened. He learned to be wary of teens whenever they smiled at him like this.

The teen got up from his chair, still he grinned at him as his hand dived into his pocket. "You're not dumb. You won't try to run because you won't escape. No one has ever escaped the Playpen without our authorization."

Nico rolled his eyes. Right.

"I'm not supposed to be doing this, but rules are meant to be broken, just keep quiet until we get to my dorm." The teen opened his cell door, and grabbed his arm. He forced Nico up.

Nico jerked his arm back. A dark scowl set on his face, he took a couple of steps back. Who did the teen think he was? Why did the teen think that he would go anywhere with him. This could be some elaborate ruse!

"Look," the teen said, he stepped forward. "I don't have the patience to deal with your bratty attitude today. I'm offering you a nice alternative to being locked up in this cage, _bored_. If you don't want to take it, fine. Clarisse will gladly watch over you."

Nico glanced away. He remembered Clarisse. He felt the phantom ache in his butt and the tightness of his underwear band around his head. He was also kinda tired of looking at the walls all-day or picking at that irritating string. Fine. He edged closer to the teen, if this was just another trap he swore the teen would regret it.

The teen brightened. He gestured for Nico to go first. "If anyone asks you, you broke down because you were afraid of the dark, or you pissed yourself and your room needs to be cleaned."

Nico wheeled around. He raised an eyebrow.

"It's happened more than you think."

Right.

This was a good time to observe the Playpen. Nico walked the long stretch of the grey-tiled hallway, empty cells crowded him left and right. Where the light strayed he recognized the same colored padding on the floors and the walls. If he squinted hard enough he was sure he saw the same types of sleeping bags and other amenities.

"Left," the teen said.

Nico's back straightened at the loud noises from this hallway. He was ready to run if there was danger. Unlike the Cell Hallway, which was quieter than a school library. This hallway was like a chaotic mix of hard rock and shouting, laughter, and he listened closely… was that running?

The walls were heavy with posters of boy bands, cars, and oh my God. He blushed cherry-red at the multitude of swimsuit clad women. _Why?_ What purpose did the posters serve? Nico walked faster, he looked for something, anything to get his mind off _that–oh_ wow, he swallowed a giant wad of spit.

He was definitely couldn't get any more embarrassed than this. There were stirrings of something in Nico's belly at the sight of this _man,_ all cheekbones and dark skin and washboard abs with water droplets caught on his hair and skin. He couldn't tell if this was worse or better, just wow. A random thought rooted in his mind… did the teen look like this at the pool or beach?

"Over here is the control room, which doubles as the rec room. I completely forgot, we are having our gaming tournaments tonight." Nico tuned back in, a _huh?_ at his lips.

To his right, there was a large open gym-like space with hundreds of teens just doing stuff, along with like hundreds of computer monitors and super important looking technology. Nico wondered if every teen base was like this, like he knew that they owned a set up cruise ships– he grimaced at the thought of the Princess Andromeda, but if their standing bases was all centralized like this, it would be much easier to infiltrate and destroy their stuff than previously thought.

Nico and the teen came to crossroads. A spray-painted sign hung above them. Room Shit was to the left. Food and Shit was to the right. Awesome Shit was north, and You Were Just There, Shithead! behind them.

Nico made a face at the sign. He went left and was met with more hallway plastered in more posters. A rainbow coalition of painted doors lined up on the sides, some of them ajar, some them wide open, most of them closed. The teen placed a hand on Nico's back he hurried him along. "We don't need anyone coming out at the wrong time."

They made it to the end of the hallway where the teen's room was. Nico smiled at the ocean and beach theme going on, he spotted a mini surfboard magnet on his whiteboard. _Can you surf?_ Nico wanted to ask.

The teen wiggled around him, he opened the door. He ushered Nico inside before he closed the door. Nico supposed he would pretend like he hadn't heard the click of the lock.

Nico noticed the clothes that littered the dark blue carpet, and the lack of posters on the empty white walls. Nico stood in the middle of the room, it was just that much bigger than cell… like 325-350 square feet. There was a bookshelf and a desk covered in papers, a half-empty can of Coke used as paperweight. There was another bed opposite of the teen's. He raised an eyebrow at it. "Don't worry, Grover's duty ended last week."

Then, there was the usual closet and he walked forward a little and turned right, there was the bathroom. This room was nowhere near the size of Nico's room in his treehouse, but it nice enough where he felt like he had space to breathe.

The teen sagged on his bed. A pleased sigh escaped him.

"You can sit down if you want," he patted the spot next to him. Nico stayed. "Or, you can take a shower because I bet you haven't in awhile." Was that the teen's roundabout way of telling him he reeked? "You can read– I have Peter Pan, Harry Potter, the Hunger Games, or the ever-funny Dante's Inferno where people get boiled in fire and blood and burnt alive. You can play videogames, watch movies — we finally installed the wifi — or do whatever brats like you do in your free time. I'm sure I even have some coloring books."

Nico dug his hands in his jacket pockets. Why was the teen being so nice to him? It just felt wrong. But. He did want to take a shower. He decided to bite the bullet. Fine. Whatever.

He nodded toward the shower. The teen got up and went to his closet. Nico watched him, curious. The teen yanked out clothes until he came up with basketball shorts, a black shirt with Goode High's Titans mascot etched in gold on the back, and some underwear.

The teen threw it to him. "Uh, the briefs might be too big. Who keeps underwear that they outgrew, anyway? Everything else shouldn't hang off you too much." The teen gave him a once over. "But you _are_ tiny."

Nico frowned. He headed straight to the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him, it seemed to rattle with the teen's ringing laughter.

It was fifteen minutes later when he came out. He dropped his clothes in the _clearly_ unused hamper by the bathroom. The teen raised a black eyebrow, he stared at him for what felt like eons. Nico raised his own eyebrows, challenging. _What?_

"S'not too big," the teen said simply. His attention was drawn back to the laptop. Yeah right! The teen was blind or something. Nico's shirt went down to his upper thighs and he rolled the shorts up like twice, and the underwear… Nico shook his head.

He glanced over at the unoccupied bed.

"You don't want to sit on Grover's bed," the teen said. Nico stared at him, incredulous. It looked fine to him. "Just don't," the teen insisted.

Nico rolled his eyes. The day he listened to teenagers would be the day he ate fresh broccoli and tomatoes. He sat on Grover's bed, he even laid down on it. He rolled around. It was a perfectly comfortable– ugh, what was that pungent odor? Nico shot up like a spring and covered his nose. It was like an acrid sweet smell, it burned at his nose and eyes. It was so _strong_.

He reluctantly sat on the edge of the teen's bed, Nico maintained the glare on Grover's bed.

"I told you," the teen said, sing-song. "Grover's really into the Rasta lifestyle." Nico didn't know what that was supposed to mean, but okay.

Nico stayed on the edge of the bed, kicking his legs. The teen sat crisscross applesauce, he leaned against the wall behind him. He was a fast type-er if sound was anything to go by. Every so often, he'd stop, curse, and press hard on this one key. Nico guessed it was the backspace button. Then, he got the computer to read it back to him.

"I don't bite," the teen said after the computer finished the 'In conclusion' paragraph.

The teen didn't need to know he was listening.

"I don't have cooties."

Duh. That didn't mean anything though. Nico was fine where he was.

"You can choose anything on Netflix."

Now, that got his attention. Teen treachery aside, Bianca never let him choose what to watch on their shared Netflix account, and Persephone always put up parental blocks on everything good.

Nico sat next to the teen. He bit hard inside his cheeks and forced the blush on his cheeks to scram. A measure of space between them. He plucked the laptop from the teen's lap.

"You're welcome," the teen said, he crossed his arms.

Nico rolled his eyes for like the millionth time. He had so many options. He lingered on the cartoon section, he wanted to catch up on the newest series, but he didn't want to seem too _childish._

He settled on the first Iron Man. The teen even made an appreciative hum when he saw the title. Nico smiled, just a little. The teen reached to turn off the lights.

If during the course of the movie Nico was coaxed into warm familiarity that he thought he'd forgotten, if he found himself moving closer as the movie progressed, his head nearly on the teen's shoulder, and if the teen took his hand and rubbed the spot just under his wrist, Nico didn't say a word.

It was like… he just meant… stupid teenager.

* * *

Nico burst into the treehouse. "Sorry, I tried, Dad made… I'm here!" he panted. His cheeks red, his nose was snotty from the nippy air. He skip-ran up all eleventy-zillion steps of the treehouse's corkscrew staircase outside.

His brown eyes glossed over everybody in their War Room. This was an emergency, right? Why hadn't he heard their rallying cry of, "Battle stations!"

He walked toward the group, his smile dimmed with each step. Did someone cancel Christmas or Summer Break?

Numbuh 1986, second in command of the KND, was there (he only ever saw her around when Numbuh 13 needed something). Numbuh 14 played with her eagle feather. Numbuh 13 wasn't looking at him, at all, which was weird in itself because he was the first one to speak to Nico, always, and Numbuh 79, his first trainee and newest addition to his family, looked like she was seconds away from crying. If that didn't stir up something within Nico, but it was 007–Percy that got him to speak.

"Why do you have Bianca's hat?" he asked, he nodded toward the soft green baseball cap in Percy's hands. Mama gave Bianca that hat. Bianca never went anywhere without it.

Percy flinched.

Where was Bianca anyway? She was their weapon's expert. He realized he was waiting for her indignant yell of, "It's Numbuh 17 while on duty!" His eyebrows furrowed. He looked around. Maybe she was on a mission.

"Percy?" he asked again, louder. "Why do you have Bianca's hat?"

Percy didn't answer. He crumpled the hat in his hands. Strangely, he mirrored Numbuh 13. It was like he was doing everything his power to not look at him.

"P-51," 1986 started. Nico found he could never look at her straight in the eyes, but this was different. Her eyes read different, not her fierce electric-blue, it was dimmed. There was something in them he didn't want to name. "There's been an acid-"

"Thalia," Percy interrupted, soft-like, thin. "Don't lie. We watched the videos."

1986 glared at Percy, she bared her teeth. "It doesn't matter what we saw! It's completely possible that the tapes have been tampered, or she was hit with Dr. Thorne's Bizzaro Ray, we don't know all the details, and- !"

Nico's stomach rolled. He felt like he was going to barf. There was an itch under his skin, like when he waited for Mama to pick him up after school that cloudy day. "Why do you have Bianca's hat!" he repeated. "Percy, where is she?"

"Let's go to the kitchen and get some ice cream," Percy said, he clutched the cap tight. "Vanilla Swirl, your favor-"

"I don't want ice cream!" he yelled. "I want to know what happened to my sister!"

Percy's face twisted, his mouth opened and nothing came out, before everything came out. "It was late at night and we didn't catch her until the alarms went off and it was too late. Nico, you have to believe me, I'm so sorry, we tried to do everything… but it's irreversible, and I'msososososorry, I should've been watching her—"

"Percy—" "—Bianca's been decomissioned!"

 _oh_.

What was the name of that feeling that buzzed inside him like thousands of bees? Why did he even bother with this feeling? He heard wrong! Yes, that was it! Bianca couldn't be decomissioned. It wasn't possible.

She was twelve.

Two weeks ago, they were at Mama's funeral and Bianca promised that she would always be there for him. She promised she wasn't going to go anywhere. She pinkie-promised and crossed-her-heart-out, so, Percy was lying and this was all some great big joke.

Nico laughed like harsh notes on the guitar. "It's the middle of January, it's not April Fool's. Seriously, where's Bianca?"

They all looked at him with wide eyes. Nico almost believed them, but he knew a joke when he saw one.

"Nico, it's not a joke. Bianca decomissioned herself. We have the vid-"

"Nuh-uh! No!" Nico rounded on Percy, he jabbed a sharp finger in his chest. "Because I told you Bianca was acting weird! I told you that she started to throw away all her Mythomagic cards, and how she started to hang out with the Huntresses, I told you she didn't want to play pretend with me no more, I told you she gave away all her dolls and toy swords, I told you how she cut her hair — no more bows and ribbons, I told you how she didn't want to do anything fun anymore, I told you how she said that we all had to grow up, I told you all that! What did you say to me, Percy? What did you say?"

Percy shuffled. He hung his head low. "I said I would watch her, that she would be okay."

Anger erupted within Nico. He backed away from Percy as if burned. "I should've never trusted you!" he was shaking. "You told me she'd be okay! You said you would watch her!" his eyes stung and voice cracked. "You lied to me! You lied to me! You're a stupid liar! I never want to see your stupid face again."

He ran.

Well, he attempted to run. He got as far as the second level of the treehouse when Percy barreled into him. "Geroff!" he pushed at Percy, his vision blurry and his strength weak. "Go away! I never, ever, ever, ever want to see you again!"

Percy added more salt to the wound. He locked his arms around him in a forced hug, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, Nico. I swear I didn't mean for—"

"Stop lying!" Nico said, he struggled against Percy. "Stop lying!"

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," Percy repeated like a broken record. It sounded so dumb to Nico's ears, if he was really sorry than they wouldn't be in this situation.

"… I won't break any more promises, I swear. You won't be alone."

That's the same thing Bianca said. Percy was lying.

Eventually, Nico couldn't fight in any more. His tears ran dry, his snot crusted on his nose. He just wanted to go to sleep, forget this whole day happened. Percy stayed, he murmured broken sorries and soggy promises.

A year and half later, Percy turned fourteen. Decomissioned. So much for not being alone.

* * *

The laptop was shut. It was pushed to the side. Iron Man was long over. Nico lay in the bed. The teen was beside him. They shared a pillow.

Nico resisted the urge the move, it was like the teen was breathing down his neck. Did he have to be so close?

"Your thoughts are loud."

Nico turned to face the wall. He was trying to sleep.

"Why is it that you fight so much against growing up?"

Was the teen trying to incite a battle?

"It's not supposed to be so bad. You get to drive, you get to do things you actually want, you find that it's fun to be a teenager. There is joy in adulthood."

Lalalala~, he couldn't hear him.

"I don't remember much about being child," the teen said, almost wistful. "Well, that's a lie. I vividly remember my John Cena phase, and I cringe every time someone mentions Mindcraft, and there are a few YouTube comments that should never be spoken of."

Nico laughed against the pillowcase. That he remembered that well. Sometimes, Nico skimmed some of his old forums. He stepped on quite a few toes with his whole Mythomagic purity crusade. He was quite adamant in how Romans and Greeks must be separated with different cards, and how there were several mythologies that needed to be corrected.

"Don't laugh at me." The teen reached over and jabbed him in the ribs. "You develop more as you get older, really see someone's true colors."

Nico gripped the pillow. He knew all about seeing someone's true colors as they got older. After fourteen everyone was a liar and cheat.

"The world is so black and white when you're a kid. You learn there are shades in grey in everything."

Ugh. The teen shouldn't waste his breath trying to sell him some pipe dream.

"I can tell you a bedtime story."

Nico groaned. He thought the teen stopped with the nonsense. He turned to face the teen.

"Once upon time, there was a smaller me and smaller me had a dream to be an astronaut. Then, smaller me found out that was a really stupid dream because like everyone wants to be an astronaut and space is a lifeless vacuum. So, smaller me went through many, many phases. I was sure I was going to be an actor.

"And then, the whole period where I felt sure I was going to be an artist. My mother's refrigerator was my art gallery. Oh, smaller me wanted to be a fireman because firemen saved people and were superheroes, and like I liked saving people… or well, I was told that I was good at saving people."

Nico picked at his covers.

"But like in sixth grade little me got into some stupid shit–did stupid shit, and Mom sent me to this camp-like farm where it is was all hard work — completely unfair, I had to wipe my entire schedule clean that summer — like I had to get up at the crack of dawn and muck out stables and move hay, and make my own breakfast, and my clothes always smelled like shit. It was freakin' horrible." The teen laughed.

"But, they let us work with the animals… and there's really nothing like birthing a somethin' for the first time, and I found I really liked working with animals, like this is a job I can do one day. Little me strived toward this, is still striving toward this dream, this career… it's what I wanna do when I grow up."

Nico sucked in his bottom lip. He loved, loved being a kid but sometimes, like only for the _briefest_ of moments, he imagined himself older, like as a counselor to other kids.

"Once upon a time, little me was just like you, but he realized that growing up wasn't so bad. Not really. It's okay to grow out of things. To want more."

Nico didn't snort, he didn't roll his eyes because maybe deep, deep down, under everything he knew there to be a kernel of truth. It was just…

Nico abruptly turned back around to face the wall. He could feel the teen's eyes on him. They were heavy like chains. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to tune out all the nonsense and doubt that crowded his head. He was just tired.

Stupid teenager.

* * *

Light pink, bright orange burned away to cool blues and soft purples. Nico finished the last of his Tembleque from the 'celebration'. Nico set aside his spoon and paper plate. He leaned against the hard wood of the treehouse, a lone leg swung idle over the edge.

"You're missing the party," Numbuh 13 said. He was just behind him, no doubt wearing his usual hopeful smile, as if that was enough to coax him into whatever.

Nico shrugged, his eyes rested on the community that sprawled before him. In hours, he'd hear the groans of hundreds of kids and teenagers as they came from their houses. He'd see the relieved smiles of adults everywhere. In hours, he'd be facing another school year. Another year gone.

"It's going to be ok."

"Save me the talk!" Nico lashed out. He twisted to face Numbuh 13. "I don't want to hear you say that because you've said it _every_ year since the Incident. It's going to be okay, it's going to be okay, it's going to be okay. _It's not_. It's _not_! Next year, you'll be gone and so will Numbuh 8, Numbuh 14, and Numbuh 3.14r^2. After that, it will be me and Numbuh 79, leaving Numbuh 314." He stood up, his teeth gnashed stomped over to where Numbuh 13 was. He never hated his optimism more.

"We're growing up, and there's nothing we can do about it. What's the point of doing all of this," he waved his arms about. "If it never lasts? If at the end of the day, we're going to become the very thing we've been fighting against! Tell me, how the _fuck_ is this okay?"

Numbuh 13's blond eyebrows furrowed, he crowded against himself. "I…I…I"

"I…I…I," Nico mocked, he shook his head. "You don't know. That's all I hear: you don't know." He turned away and muttered under his breath. He just wanted this whole growing up thing to stop. Childhood was an endless summer, Numbuh 42 once described to him, but Nico saw the brown leaves and he felt the chill in air.

"It's going to be okay," Numbuh 13 said softly, slowly.

Nico scoffed. "Again. Really?"

Numbuh 13 laid an arm around his shoulders. "Yes, really. It's going to be okay because… because…"

"Because why?" Nico grumbled. He really wanted to hear Numbuh 13's reason so he could scoff, laugh, and mock it.

"Uh, I don't know."

Nico rolled his eyes, he pulled away from Numbuh 13, 13 held fast. "Wait, just because I don't know, that doesn't mean it won't be okay. It's… Reyna was always good at this," The frown was heavy on Nico's lips. Numbuh 13 visibly winced. "I'm sorry, too soon. It's just, not everything is all doom-and-gloom, it's going to be okay."

"Why should I believe that?"

"It's better than the alternative, isn't it?"

Nico really, really hated 13's optimism.

* * *

Nico swore it got harder and harder to wake up before ten am. The same excitement that brimmed within him was no longer there. His bones ached and it was such an effort to tug himself from the mattress. He sat up. The teen was off to the side wrapped like pig in a blanket, a dark puddle near his mouth.

Nico smiled.

His fingers crawled across the pillow where they reached just near the teen's mouth. He felt the teen's warm breath, if he was more courageous, if Numbuh 14 were here to triple-dog dare him, he'd use pointer finger to curve against his jaw, and then– urgh.

Nico scowled. He jerked his fingers back.

He had mission to do. He got off the bed. He moved as much as possible. The teen barely stirred aside from a muttered, "Black… jack."

Nico went to the hamper and grabbed his aviator jacket and jeans.

Time to do this.

It was easy to slip out of the teen's room. He navigated through the hallways of the Playpen. The halls filled with heavy snoring. No cameras in the corners, no laser-motion thingies on the floor, it was like the easiest thing in like the history of ever to just go into the control room.

The teens were strewn on the floor and couches, sleeping. Nico took the seat in front of the biggest computer. So big! It seemed to be the size of a theater screen. He spun around in the spinny-chair for a full minute because (no one he knew resisted such a temptation) before he got to work.

He didn't think he'd ever be so fond of one of the teens. But, here he was, smiling as he thought of the red-eyed, slurring one that padded him down and 'checked' him over. It was thanks to him Nico had his flame-colored flashdrive and a range of other smaller 2x04 technology stuffed in his inner pockets.

Nico booted up their computers. He flinched with the unison of apple-sound that rang throughout the control room. He peeked behind him. Not a peep.

There was only one icon with a little picture of the teen samurai helmet. A blank box floated underneath it. Nico stared.

He could try typing all sorts of passwords. He needed to brush up on his technological espionage after all, but he had a cheat code. He loved cheat codes it saved time and effort.

The USB port was harder to find, it was hidden under a mountain of phone chargers and cords for the computer. When he put the thing in, the monitor's background shifted from the generic grey to an encompassing black. The type he associated with panic and uneasiness, like a "I barely touched it!" feeling.

Nico was about to ready to hit the restart button. The screen shift to a paper-sheet white. A colorful Christmas elf smile emoji hung there for what felt like _ages._ The screen flickered black, white, grey, purple. Nico had no idea what to do. What had 3.14^2 done?

He leaned back in his seat. Thousands of numbers started to stream on the many screens in front of him. A smiley elf emoji centered on every screen like a trademark.

Then, it was over.

The screens flashed back to its original setting. It was like nothing changed, perhaps, nothing had. Either way, he pocketed the flash-drive. He turned off the computers, and he was out of the room.

He wandered the hallways no one stopped him. His fingers drummed on his jeans, his tongue stuck to the roof on his mouth as if glued by peanut butter, and his heart raced thousands of miles per minute.

He found his way back to the teen's room. The door closed softly behind him.

Predictably, the teen was fast asleep huddled under his blue covers. Nico found his seat on a corner of the mattress. There was a button in his jacket, a button he only had to push and his sector would come running for him.

Nico crept back to his original spot. He kept his hands to himself. It was his eyes that did the searching, the ones that followed every slope and curve. "You're so cool," he whispered, he leaned in like it was a shared secret. "Way better than Hercules or Achilles. Better than Peter."

He reached into his pocket and he pressed the button. He leaned in further until he shadowed the teen, his breath ghosted over his face. He could do it. The teen would never know, he could do it. It would be literal seconds, but…

What was he thinking?

He swiveled around, his back faced the teen and his eyes were on the white walls.

He bit his cheeks so hard he tasted blood. He slapped his cheeks once. His fingers coiled around the string on his jeans. He just wanted to pull, pull, and pull.

Amidst the sirens going off hours later and the yells for everyone to get up: "The little shits have invaded our space!" The sound of explosions and the screams of outrage, and those like the teen that stumbled from bed.

Nico was nowhere to be found.

Stupid teenager.

* * *

Nico's first memory was of his pacifier. The teat was blue. The ring was green. He loved it. It was always in his mouth.

Mama hid it from one time, or so, she told him. She said with a curling smile her dark eyes shined. "You wouldn't stop crying. For three days, you cried and cried and _cried_."

Nico stared at Mama. Him? Cry? Three days? And over a baby pacifier? Baby him was certainly… _babyish_. Still. "What happened? Did I stop crying?"

"Oh," Mama said. She looked at him, but she was in a far off place. "Your Father and I were determined to wean you off your habit, but your sister had other ideas. She found your pacifier and gave it back to you. We got a full night's rest because of her." She laughed like Bianca, high and breathy. The sound wrapped around Nico like a hug.

 _Oh_. He expected more. He guessed some sort of resolution where Mama gave it back or maybe he'd just cry for days until he stopped. In his first memories, there was like a hiccup, a missing set of memories. Before and After his pacifier.

"Then, what happened?"

"You gave it up," Mama said simply.

"I gave it up? Just like that!"

Mama laughed again, her princess curls bounced, her face lit up, and she nodded. "I came into the kitchen just as you dropped it in the trashcan. I fished it out and explained why things you liked didn't belong in the garbage, but you took it from me and said you _did not_ like your paci anymore, and dropped it back in the trash."

"And then what happened?"

Mama didn't laugh this time. She pressed a wet kiss to his forehead. The fingers that he loved so much brushed his hair back, he leaned into the touch. "You became my big boy."

* * *

"Nico, Hazel, your babysitter is here!" Persephone yelled upstairs.

Nico rolled his eyes. He stopped fiddling with his iPad. First of all, Persephone knew that him and Numbuh 79 liked to go by their codenames especially since they figured out her secret identity as Poison Ivy in the A.A.R.P. (Antagonistic Adult Reaching Purposes). Second of all, he was thirteen. He didn't need a babysitter. He was old enough to be left alone in the house.

Nevertheless, he was forced to comply with her wishes just because Father would think they were giving his stepmother unnecessary grief. He shoved his tablet under his arm and opened his bedroom door.

Numbuh 79 waited for him at the stairs, an equally sullen expression on her face. Together, they stomped their way down. It would annoy Persephone. There was absolutely nothing she could do because public appearance was everything to her.

Persephone met them at the bottom of the stairs, her and Father arm-in-arm, the fakest smile on her glitter-glossed lips. She was all spruced up for their night on the town. Nico stopped listening to her talk about it as soon as she mentioned an opera.

"Perseus, this is Nico and Hazel." Persephone pointed a manicured finger at each other of them. "Bianca is staying over at friend's house," Persephone said cheerfully. "You'll be babysitting all night. That's okay with your Mom, right?"

Nico really, really wished he was back in his room. He refused to look at the teen.

"Yeah. My Mom says it's cool."

Was it Nico or was it hot in here?

"Excellent." Persephone's voice dripped with satisfaction as if she knew exactly what the teen's presence was doing to Nico. "There's money on the counter if you want to order in. Feel free to rent a movie."

Nico watched as Persephone ambled toward him and Numbuh 79 in her ridiculous heels. She bended down to give them her customary air kisses. A breezy, "Be good, lovelies!" A curt nod from Father, and they were gone, leaving them alone with the teen.

"Before you say anything I'm just trying to collect my $200 and go. Truce?"

Like they would be foolish enough to believe that! Numbuh 79 grabbed his hand. She gave it a squeeze. Nico shook his head. He knew Numbuh 79 had been in the middle of super mushy-gushy conversation with Numbuh 8 when Persephone called them down. "Go back upstairs, I've got this."

"P-51!"

"Go!" he yanked his hand free and nodded upstairs. Numbuh 79 stared at him before she crossed her arms.

Her golden eyes glowed like she could see the contents of someone's soul. It was kinda scary if Nico was being honest. Her gaze landed on the teen, a familiar familial scowl set on her face. "You listen here, teenager. I hear one suspicious sound and you won't escape this house unharmed!" Nico watched her go. He didn't dare look at the teen until the last possible moment, and even then, he found his holey converse way more interesting than his stupid face.

"I never asked if she wanted pizza, subs, or chinese," he said.

Nico shrugged. He forcefully pushed passed the teen, he went into the living room where he dropped on the couch. "Numbuh 79 would want a sub, steak-and-cheese, with extra mayo."

The teen took a seat next to him, unnecessarily close. There was like the whole other side couch, plus an armchair to the right of them. Nico scrunched his nose. There was no need to be _so_ close!

"What would _you_ like?"

"Meatball Marinara."

"Messy, but good. No extra stuff."

Nico shook his head. His fingers stroked the leather arm. Look at him fraternizing with the enemy. He had things to-do like the mission he was given, it all rested in his hands. The reason why he allowed himself to be captured all those months ago, it was in preparation for this.

"Can I borrow your tablet to place the order?"

Nico exited off the app he'd been playing with, and he handed the tablet over. He took only minutes before he passed it back. Nico and him sat in complete silence for moments. Nico was tempted to go back upstairs when the teen opened his mouth.

"All the Samurai are on the base, all of the grunts and all of the leaders. It's the end-of-the-year party."

Nico relaxed. So, the teen caught him. "Why aren't you there?"

"I needed the money," he said simply.

"Are you going to stop me?"

"No, because you won't do it."

Nico whipped around, his eyes narrowed. "Who says I won't do it? I'll definitely do it!"

"You won't," he said, that infuriatingly crooked smile on his lips.

"What makes you said that? How can you be sure?"

"Because you've had all day to this."

"So, there are like a billion things to do in the day, I have ch…"

"Because Reyna is at that party."

"What does she have to do with anything?"

Nico didn't like this at all. He needed to stop this. He was totally going to do this mission.

"Because Bianca is at the party."

"I'd love to see my older sister in pain, she deserves this…" That was a lie, that was a bold-faced lie. Bianca never shut up about prom! She was so, so happy that her crush was taking her. Bianca never stopped gushing about her dress with Numbuh 79 and she filled their ears with every little detail about her perfect night. His mission would ruin it.

"Because you know it isn't right."

What wasn't right exactly: Emailing all social media accounts to teenagers' parents, grounding them for like ever or pelting the party with the smoke bombs filled with the highly contagious acne virus. It would ruin prom week and possibly graduation. That was the mission. This was justice for everything. His name would go down in KND history. So what if he was sympathetic.

"Because you don't want too."

And if he didn't? So, what then?

Nico scoffed. He didn't reopen his iPad. "I want to see Iron Man 2."

"Your wish is my command," the teen said dryly.

He'd think about it.

The lights dimmed. The movie played. The food was eventually brought, and Nico pushed his mission objective to the corners of his mind. It was his first mission, the only mission that he went against orders and failed to complete.

* * *

Eventually, Nico fell to sleep. Meatball lightly smeared around his lips, his head rested on Percy's shoulders. A quilt covered him. The beginnings of Iron Man 3 played in the background.

Percy slipped the tablet out of Nico's hands. It was easy enough to guess the password. He went straight to the Skype Chat where he video-called contact "Numbuh 13."

It took a few moments, but Jason popped up on grainy screen mountains of paperwork surrounded him. His glasses slipped halfway down his nose. It looked as if he hadn't slept in months.

"Hey man, you look…"

"Like death."

"I was going to say like you fought with the sand man and lost, but yours works too."

Jason gave him a dry look. He was never one for jokes. Jason pushed up his glasses, yawning. Another hand was used to signal him to speak.

Percy glanced down at Nico. "He failed. He didn't take the bait."

This got Jason's attention, he perked right up as if Leo's famous Coffee Energy Drink tonic was injected into his veins. "Wha–how could he not–what did you—?!"

"Shh, he's sleeping right next to me!" Percy shifted the camera, so, Jason could see a sleeping Nico. "I don't know what happened, dude. He was doing well in all his reports, and he passed the prison test with flying colors, he just… he couldn't take the final plunge."

Jason furrowed his eyebrows, his lips thinned. He had the face like he very much wanted to say something, but he couldn't, or he wouldn't.

"Report on my desk by tomorrow evening, 007."

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

There it was again, like Jason wanted to say something but he decided against it. "No 007, you are dismissed."

"Night!"

The screen blinked back to the original skype dashboard. Percy clicked the home-button, and slid the tablet back where it belonged. A sigh escaped Percy, his fingers tangled in Nico's hair. He shifted to find a better position where they both could lie down.

"You were so close," he whispered to Nico. "You didn't have to grow up, just like me."

* * *

It's the type of night where sleeping is impossible.

There are empty glasses of warm milk all over the floor with residue honey dotting the edges. He's counted over a hundred sheep and he has squeezed his eyes shut so tight that when he opens them he sees a kaleidoscope of dizzying colors. He has tried every sleeping trick in the gosh-darn book.

He blinks at his faded glow-in- the dark stickers for minutes, his legs kicking restlessly under his covers before he climbs out of bed. His feet are sticky on the wood floors. He's careful in how he mazes through his room where he avoids the menacing dark bundles and small shadowed objects alike.

He grins, victorious, when he makes it to his doorway. He peeks into hallways, left and right, are bright with nightlights. He goes left. He tiptoes past the many, many doors of his fellow operatives until he makes it to the end of the hallway.

The door is open like always. He doesn't even need to step in to see fluorescent lights on the walls that remind him of the glow of the jellyfish floating lazily under the dark cover of the sea.

He goes in. He shuts the door behind him and scurries to the bed. Other nights, he'd burrow deep within these covers that smell like the salt of the sea and the grit of sand and sweat. Tonight, he's hot and sticky and stays atop of the covers. The windows are wide open, there's no air that filters through. He swears if he stares hard enough he catches dark clouds in the distance that crackle with lightening, and if he's quiet enough he can the deep boom of thunder.

"Can't sleep, Nico?" Percy's voice is rough with sleep. Percy's hand slips to find his arm where they begin to graze.

Percy doesn't have faded stars on his ceiling. Just odd seashells and surfboards and little bits of memorabilia from all the battles won. Tomorrow there will be nothing on his ceiling. It will be like Percy never existed.

"…Percy?"

"mmhm?" he slurs, still half-asleep.

I'm scared, he nearly says. Go rogue, run away. Don't leave me, please. I don't want for tomorrow to come. The words, like spikes, are lodged in his throat. It makes it hard to breathe.

"…hey, whatever it is, it'll be fine," Percy says, he shimmies closer. His hand never stops moving on his arm.

Except it's not. It won't be.

"Tell me a bedtime story," he says.

Percy does.


End file.
